Episode 47. The Name Called First
# Episode 47. The Name Called First
After the man standing at the center of the courtyard swallowed his last word, the surrounding air sank one more time.
Only now did Sion feel that this place was not simply somewhere people were gathered, but a space that ran even silence itself as a rule. Who spoke first, who got excited first, who turned their head first—all of it factored into value. That was why the people who had been laughing low and murmuring moments ago went quiet with unsettling speed the instant the decisive moment arrived.
Harun stood at the courtyard's edge, arms unfolded. Nasim had stepped one pace back. Those two were not the ones who would stand at center stage. Instead, they had already moved to the positions with the clearest view of who went how far, who collapsed, who broke from expectation.
Sion pressed the paper inside his jacket once and let go.
Hazran.
Aka.
The two words were still there, yet strangely they felt like they were growing more distant. Not because they had come close enough to reach, but because entering a larger structure had placed them just beyond his grasp for now.
The man at the center spoke again.
"The first round is simple."
He said.
"We see whether a hand can recognize the real thing."
Several people nearby swallowed a quiet breath.
From that brief reaction alone, Sion could tell. This might be a rule used often on this floor, but it was not an easy one. Recognizing the real thing ultimately meant filtering out the fakes first. And in this desert, fakes were usually made to look real.
Three shallow pedestals draped in black cloth were brought onto the central metal platform.
Quiet hands moved—impossible to tell who had placed them or when. Beneath each cloth, objects of similar size seemed to rest. The shapes looked alike, but the sense of weight was subtly different.
Sion found himself searching for Aka without thinking.
Aka was still standing near the deepest shade inside. Nahira blocked her by half a step, yet even so, Aka's gaze had already reached the three central pedestals. But she said nothing. The reason Zahir did not easily place Aka at the center of the stage was visible once more. A single word from that child, and this board's first rule might end too easily.
So what was needed now was not Aka, but the task of selecting a hand that believed it could sort the real from the false to some degree even without her.
The man at the center spoke.
"One of the three is real."
He said.
"One is an imitation of a place where the real once sat, and one is trash that never deserved a price."
Luhai swallowed something that was almost a curse, very quietly.
Sion understood immediately why the kid reacted. This was not a simple test of perception. It was a condensed version of everything Hazran's core had been talking about. Real, imitation, never-was. A door, something pretending to be a door, and something with no value at all.
Nasim laughed very low.
"Nice opening."
He murmured.
Seorin heard that and rolled her eyes once.
"Nice is your speech habit."
She said low.
The man at the center paid no mind.
"First name."
He said clearly.
In that moment, Sion's breath went shallow for a strange reason.
The premonition that it might be him had been there since earlier.
"Luhai."
Luhai swallowed a curse almost by reflex.
Low laughter rippled through the surroundings and faded quickly. It did not seem like a surprising call. If anything, it was so natural that everyone appeared to have been waiting. The kid who picked up a real fragment first from the inside, the kid who touched ledgers, the kid who chased the scent of fake and real until he caused the first incident. A perfect fit for the first call.
Luhai looked once at the watching hand beside him, then back at the center.
"What if I refuse?"
He asked bluntly.
The man at the center answered without smiling.
"Then your value for tonight ends right there."
Luhai clicked his tongue.
"Rotten luck."
"And yet you're walking up."
Kael said low.
Luhai heard that and shot him an irritated look. But this time, instead of a retort, he only let out something close to a scoff. He already knew. Pulling out here was not escape—it was an immediate drop in value. At least for a kid like Luhai.
He walked slowly toward the center.
Sion noticed the steps were less light than expected. His mouth was fast and his hands moved first, but once truly placed on a line, this was not a fearless kid. Just the type whose calculations ran faster than his fear.
The man at the center asked.
"Which hand will you look with."
Luhai answered irritably.
"My hand. Whose else."
Low laughter rose from the surroundings again.
The man at the center nodded.
"Good. Then pick."
The cloths had not yet been lifted.
Luhai stood before the three pedestals and did not move for a while. Sion noticed the kid's eyes were looking less at the pedestals themselves and more at the edges of the cloths, the shadows beneath the bases, the traces left from when they were placed. This was not the eye of someone simply choosing an object. It was the eye of a kid who had spent years stealing and running, watching where people hid the real thing.
Before the first pedestal, Luhai's hand stopped for just an instant.
But he did not pick it.
The second.
This time his fingertip nearly grazed the cloth before pulling away.
Before the third, Luhai truly held his breath for the first time.
Sion found that reaction so subtle it made his nerves sharpen further. Luhai was not certain right now. He was reading how the three lied differently from one another.
Aka was still silent.
Nahira said nothing either.
Harun did not move.
Only Nasim wore the faintest trace of a smile.
Luhai finally spoke.
"This one."
He pointed to the second pedestal.
"Why."
The man at the center asked.
Luhai narrowed his eyes.
"The first one fakes being real too obviously."
He said.
"The third hid it too sloppily in the other direction. On this floor, the real thing doesn't roll like that."
The man at the center pressed further.
"So the second?"
"The second,"
Luhai said very low.
"It pretends to be hidden, but it couldn't fully conceal what it is to the end."
That sentence sounded strangely like something said about all of Hazran right now.
The rule Zahir had drawn from the inside. The imitation of a door Aka had judged. And the severed site they had been chasing.
Sion drew a shallow breath without realizing it.
The man at the center slowly pulled back the cloth over the second pedestal.
Beneath it lay a single irregular metal fragment. At first glance it could pass for a worn part; look a little more carefully and it resembled an old junction piece.
The surrounding air trembled by the smallest degree.
From that reaction alone, Sion felt this was not a complete failure. At least Luhai had not chosen the utter trash.
But whether it was the real thing or the imitation—that was still unclear.
The man at the center lifted the fragment once, showing it to everyone.
Then said very low.
"Half right."
Luhai's face locked.
The surrounding air mixed laughter, disappointment, and interest all at once.
The man at the center set the fragment back down.
"This is an imitation."
He said.
"But it has value. It clung to the site where the real thing once sat for a long time."
Sion felt that statement slide cold down the inside of his back.
An imitation, but with value.
That connected precisely to what Aka had been saying. Not all imitations were meaningless. Some had clung so long to the site where the real once sat that they were, in fact, more dangerous.
Luhai bit his lip once.
His face showed more anger precisely because it was not a complete failure.
The man at the center spoke one last time.
"Good. Then the next round goes harder."
In that moment, Sion knew the first call would not end with Luhai.
If anything, the real start was now.
And the next name was very likely to be called from the side carrying a higher value.